


I'm Kind of a Big Dill (or: Tickle My Pickle)

by devoosha



Series: The Artist Keith and Lance Grad Student AU (for lack of a better name) [10]
Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Dry Humping, Festivals, Fluff, Hand Jobs, It's a Pickle Festival, Keith is an Artist and Lance is a Grad Student AU, Lots of Pickle Jokes, M/M, SO SORRY, Some angst, but it will continue into the next story, hate to add angst, hunk is the best
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-30
Updated: 2019-09-30
Packaged: 2020-11-08 07:22:34
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,915
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20831579
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/devoosha/pseuds/devoosha
Summary: Date #7 - Lance pre-empts Keith's choice and drags Keith, Hunk, and Shay to a Pickle Festival.  The amount of innuendos and teasing throughout the day makes things difficult for them at bedtime.





	I'm Kind of a Big Dill (or: Tickle My Pickle)

**Author's Note:**

> This story shifts the series toward explicit. My thirsty readers asked, and I delivered. It made sense to me, as this waiting for the tenth date thing would be hard to do for two healthy young men in love :) It's mild smut, but if you want to avoid, it's at the end.

**I'm Kind of a Big Dill (or: Tickle My Pickle)**

** _Keith:_ ** _ I’m going to die_

**Lance:** WHAT? WHY? DON’T DIE ON ME

** _Keith:_ ** _ One of my students was at karaoke_

**Lance:** …

**Lance:** Fuck

** _Keith:_ ** _ Yeah. Fuck._

**Lance:** Ur not in trouble are u?

** _Keith:_ ** _ I don’t think so?_

** _Keith:_ ** _ Not sure_

** _Keith:_ ** _ It wasn’t done at school_

**Lance:** tehy can’t expect u not to haev a life?

** _Keith:_ ** _ Yeah, but an appropriate life_

**Lance:** U weren’t naked

** _Keith:_ ** _ Thank the gods_

** _Keith:_ ** _ So embarrassing tho_

**Lance:** I can imagine babycakes

** _Keith:_ ** _ Just. Don’t._

**Lance:** Did they seem offended or anything?

** _Keith:_ ** _ Uh. Probably not? He asked me out._

**Lance:** WHAT

**Lance:** WHAT???

**Lance:** NO NO NO NO NO NO

** _Keith:_ ** _ I didn’t say YES_

**Lance:** Isn’t it agains t teh rules???????

**Lance:** I CAN”T FUCKIGN BELIEFEVE TIS

** _Keith:_ ** _ Don’t freak out_

**Lance:** HOW CAN I NOT FERA:K OUT SOMEONE STESALIGN MY MAN

** _Keith:_ ** _ Calm down sweetheart. No one is stealing me_

**Lance:** …

** _Keith:_ ** _ Lance? Baby?_

**Lance:** I’m calm

** _Keith:_ ** _ You know you’re everything I need. _

** _Keith:_ ** _ There’s no one more perfect for me than you_

**Lance:** That’s fucking RIGHT!

** _Keith:_ ** _ Anyway…yes, even if I were interested, WHICH I’M NOT…it is against the rules_

** _Keith:_ ** _ Even if it’s only a non-credit course_

** _Keith:_ ** _ And he wasn’t even cute_

**Lance:** Nice

**Lance:** Wait.

**Lance:** I KISSED U after you sang??? Didn’t he see that?

** _Keith:_ ** _ I told him I had a boyfriend and he said oh that guy you kissed? _

** _Keith:_ ** _ He thought you were a hookup that night_

**Lance:** And he wanted my sloppy seconds?

** _Keith:_ ** _ Apparently_

** _Keith:_ ** _ Must be my irresistible dancing_

**Lance:** OMG

**Lance:** I mean, that IS true

** _Keith:_ ** _ Dork_

**Lance:** But YOUR dork

** _Keith:_ ** _ Always_

Lance: See u when u get home babycakes

** _Keith:_ ** _ Stop_

**Lance:** Antyhign u want Keithy

* * *

Keith hadn’t yet put his messenger bag down when he heard Lance knock at the door, louder than normal. “Come in, sweetheart,” he called.

The door swung open and Lance confronted him, hands on hips and mouth pulled down in a frown. Keith bit back a laugh and turned his head to hide his amusement. “Hey.”

“Hey? Hey? All you have is hey?”

“What else should I have?” Keith asked, tossing his keys in the bowl by the door.

“More than hey!”

Keith chuckled, stepping over to slide his arms around Lance’s waist, tilting his head up for a kiss from his annoyed boyfriend. “I missed you,” he murmured before pressing his lips against Lance’s.

Lance kept it short, though Keith could feel him melt a little. “Oh really? Making dates with other guys!” he huffed.

Keith smiled up at him. “Hardly. I have no time. All my time is devoted to you, so how can I go out with someone else? The poor guy would be so neglected.”

He could tell Lance was fighting against a smile, so he kissed one side of his mouth, then the other. “So who was it?”

Keith shrugged, “Some guy. I don’t remember his name.” In the summer, Keith taught non-credit courses offered by Altea Community College. Usually one or two day classes to demonstrate a type of painting, drawing, sculpture, and many other different mediums. They were fun courses and he enjoyed teaching them. They were always a mixture of different ages and types of people, who just wanted a fun day of learning a new art skill. None were professionals, or art students, but they were there merely to enjoy art. 

Since Keith usually went home during the summer for at least a month, sometimes more, he took these classes for the money and the enjoyment of it. He could set the schedule himself and the classes weren’t structured or anything. This summer was different. The college had asked him to teach a six week course of Art Appreciation starting in mid-July, which he agreed to. Hence, why he cut his trip home short this year. It worked out, because he couldn’t keep Lance away too long from his own job.

Lance appeared mollified. At least he relaxed enough in Keith’s arms and returned the kisses a little more enthusiastically. “So you missed me?”

“I always miss you when we’re not together,” Keith responded between kisses. “I have no idea what I’m gonna do when you’re on your research trip.”

Lance sighed, pulling Keith closer into a hug, hooking his chin over Keith’s shoulder. One of the marine biologists Lance worked with the previous summer contacted him him last week to ask if he’d like to go on another research trip similar to what they had done before. The man had only just been approved the funding for the trip and was scrambling to arrange it. Keith knew Lance agonized over the decision. He told Keith he didn’t want to leave him for nearly a month. 

Keith would miss Lance. Terribly. Lance lived here now. Not officially, but Lance hadn’t returned to his own bed since that first night he slept at Keith’s. At first, Keith thought it’d be difficult to stick to this tenth date rule. This stupid tenth date rule, as he thought about it. Keith wanted to throw the rule out the window, but both he and Lance were stubborn, so they stuck to it. He wanted it to be after Lance got back, anyway. After the research trip. Keith suspected Lance's absence would be impossible to endure if they had sex only to abstain for a month.

They discussed it and Keith encouraged him to go. He made it clear he would miss Lance like crazy and would be lonely, but he also told Lance he knew how much the trip would mean to him and how much it would help with his dissertation. That was the important thing – Lance’s degree. Lance reluctantly agreed and made the arrangements to go. Keith felt touched that Lance relied so much on his input and opinion.

“I don’t know what I’ll do either,” Lance said quietly, squeezing him even tighter.

“We’ll get through it, don’t worry,” Keith assured him. He pulled back, a little difficultly as Lance had such a tight hold on him. “I’ll be ready for that tenth date when you get home.”

Lance snorted a laugh. “Alright, alright,” he said. “I will too. You know after a month of not being able to ‘take care of myself’, I’ll be raring to go. I hope that tenth date will be the day I get home.”

Keith laughed too. “Take care of yourself? Do you do that?”

“All the time, Keith! You know how worked up you get me!”

“Well, good. I’m glad I’m not the only one.”

“You jerk yourself off? To thoughts of me?”

“Of course I do.”

Lance squawked and hid his face against Keith’s shoulder. His embarrassment was cute. As much as he liked to play himself off as an experienced playboy, Keith knew better and knew it was easy to fluster him.

Keith detangled himself from Lance’s arms and gave him a quick kiss against the temple. “Come on, let’s start dinner.”

“You’re home a little later than usual,” Lance commented as he followed Keith into the kitchen.

“Ah. Yeah. I had to stop for something.”

“What?”

“Something for you.”

“Aw you got me a gift?”

“Not exactly.” Keith dug into his jeans pocket and pulled out a key, which he dropped into Lance’s open palm. “Here.”

“This is…?”

“Key to my apartment,” Keith said as he turned to open the fridge to get the chicken out. “I asked the landlord to get another copy. It was ready today.”

Keith concentrated on gathering the other ingredients from the fridge and cupboard, hiding how pleased he was that he made Lance speechless. Lance stood in the way, in the middle of the small kitchen, staring at the key lying in his hand.

“Keith…”

“Lance?”

“I. You.”

“Yes, sweetheart?”

Lance cleared his throat. “I don’t know what to say.”

“There’s nothing to say, is there? You’re practically living here, aren’t you? You might as well have a key.”

Lance nodded silently, then tugged his own set of keys out of his pocket. He attached the key to Keith’s apartment on a separate keychain before tucking them back. “Thanks. I mean. This shows how much you trust me. That means a lot to me.”

“Of course I trust you,” Keith said. “Pasta ok for tonight?”

“If you’re making it, it’s definitely ok.” 

“Can you chop these up for me?” Keith asked, handing carrots over to Lance.

“Yep!” Lance dug out Keith’s vegetable peeler and set to work on the veggies at the sink. “Um. Did you call Shiro back yet?”

Keith sighed. Shiro had called, as always, on Sunday night. Keith was in bed still nursing his hangover and ignored the call. He was, in fact, asleep and Shiro cut the call before Lance could reach the phone. He had been in the living room working on organizing some notes on his computer when he heard Keith’s phone. He told Keith he scrambled to answer it, but didn’t make it.

When Keith awoke in the morning, he shot Shiro a quick text explaining that he was asleep when he called. Shiro said it was alright, but that he couldn’t call Keith that night because he had plans on Monday. Two days went by and neither had been able to carve time out of their schedules to talk.

“No. I tried, but he’s been busy this week.”

“You shouldn’t wait too long, Keith.”

“I know. But when I text him, he’s doing something. And when he texts me, we’re doing something. I’ll talk to him this weekend.”

“But we’ll be on our date on Sunday. If he calls then…”

“I’ll let him know.”

Lance hummed, turning on the water to wash off the carrots before he started chopping them. 

“What’s the hum for?”

“Hmm?” Lance hummed again, glancing up. He shrugged. “I just think you shouldn’t go too long without talking to him.”

Keith nodded. He knew Lance was touchy about the Shiro thing. In the weeks they’d been together, Keith tried on several occasions to get Shiro to talk to Lance when they FaceTimed, but somehow Shiro always weaseled out of it. Each time chiseled a little away at Lance’s confidence, and Keith could see it. Keith, in turn, was annoyed with his brother for being an ass about the whole thing. If Shiro were still mad about Keith not telling him about Lance, then why take it out on Lance? Keith was the one who didn’t tell Shiro. Or Pidge, he thought. Pidge also refused to ‘meet’ Lance over FaceTime.

“I won’t. Don’t worry about it.”

He knew saying it wouldn’t make Lance not worry.

* * *

Sunday turned out to be a beautiful day. A few clouds in the sky kept the sun from beating down too harshly, and the humidity disappeared. No rain was in the forecast and a slight breeze kept the temperature bearable. A pleasant change from the day before. Keith was stuck in his studio at the school, teaching a string of Saturday classes he had agreed to before he and Lance met. While he enjoyed it, he came home exhausted and was happy to hang out on his couch with Lance and Red, eating popcorn and watching the Hobbit.

“So where are we going?” Keith asked from his spot next to Lance in the back of Shay’s SUV. They were teasing each other with ticklish little touches and sneaking kisses like a couple of teenagers. Hunk played the part of stern dad by giving them exasperated looks over his shoulder when the giggling got too much.

“I guess we can reveal our secret destination now,” Lance said, spreading his arms wide enough to knock against Keith. 

Shay chuckled, shaking her head. “Keith, prepare yourself for the experience of a lifetime.”

“Oh, geez.”

Hunk peered over the back of his seat. “The most amazing, epic, and historic festival this side of the Mississippi River.”

“The Linwood Pickle Festival!” Lance shouted.

“Ex. Cuse. Me?”

“The Linwood Pickle Festival, Keith,” Shay said patiently.

“I don’t….”

“Keith, the Linwood Pickle Festival is a time honored tradition of the small town of Linwood. For over forty years, the citizens of Linwood come together to honor and pay homage to the noble and most delicous pickle,” Lance explained.

“Why?”

Hunk shrugged. “I think they grow pickles there for some company. Not really sure.”

“A pickle festival?”

“We’ve actually wanted to go for years, but we usually go home for the summer,” Shay added as she flicked the signal button to take the off ramp from the highway. Sure enough, a hand-made sign stuck in the dirt at the end of the off ramp read **'TURN LEFT FOR THE LINWOOD PICKLE FESTIVAL'**. “Lance remembered it and we all thought it a great idea for a group date.”

“But…a pickle festival?”

“I love pickles, Keith!”

“I had no idea.”

Lance broke into a rambling story of childhood memories of picking cucumbers with his siblings and cousins at his Tio’s farm in Georgia, overheated kitchens smelling of brine and dill as his grandmother canned the fruits (or vegetables?) of their labor, the utter deliciousness of said pickles, and how he wished Keith could have been there. Lance ignored Hunk’s comments about Lance’s actual complaints to him when he was forced into child labor during the hottest days of the summer. 

* * *

“We can’t be late for the crowning of the Pickle Queen,” Lance declared.

“I thought they crowned her on Friday?” Shay asked.

Lance glanced down at the program an ancient woman handed them when they entered the festival grounds. “Uh. Oh yeah. She’s doing something, though, at ten.”

“Officially opening the festival for Sunday. Wow. The duties of Pickle Queen are not what I expected,” Hunk said.

“What did you think the duties of a Pickle Queen would be?” Shay asked.

Hunk shrugged. “I don’t know. Oversee the quality of pickles or something? Ride the pickle in the pickle parade?”

Lance and Keith snorted, while Shay outright laughed. “Ride the pickle? That would be quite the float.”

Realizing how it sounded, Hunk flushed. “You know what I mean.”

“Oh, we’re definitely not missing the Pickle Parade. It’s at noon,” Keith said.

“I wonder how you qualify to be the Pickle Queen. Do you have to demonstrate your love of pickle riding?” Lance asked.

“Does that take over the bathing suit competition part of the selection?” asked Shay.

Lance mimed holding a microphone to his mouth, “Did you see how she took that pickle, ladies and gentleman. A true champion! A smile the whole way!”

* * *

Keith rolled his eyes upwards as the corners of his mouth turned down. “What. The. Fuck?”

“It looks good on you, Keithy!”

“No. Absolutely not.”

“C’mon. Get into it. I’m wearing one!”

“And you look ridiculous.”

“I do not! I look cute!”

Keith eyed Lance, who sported the same…thing…on his head that he just placed on Keith’s. It was a large pickle with a painted on wide-open mouth and huge eyes which rolled when Lance moved. It stood a good two feet above his head.

“You do not.”

“I always look cute, Keithy.”

Keith ground his teeth together. Lance did look cute, admittedly, but he knew he himself looked like a crazy person. “I can’t wear a fucking pickle on my head. Hunk and Shay aren’t.”

“They’re too tall,” Lance pointed out, which didn’t make sense to Keith at all. “Please. For me?”

Keith was a sucker for the look Lance shot him, and he felt his arguments crumble. There really wasn’t any reason not to wear a giant pickle on his head, other than how stupid it made him appear. If it made Lance happy…

He sighed, giving up. “Fine. I’ll wear the stupid pickle.”

Lance squealed, then planted a kiss on his cheek. 

Hunk and Shay were quite supportive, though they didn’t purchase pickle hats, in that they didn’t outright laugh at Keith. They did sneak some pictures that, of course, made it to Facebook, but Keith wouldn’t know it until later.

* * *

“I am not wearing that.”

“Keeeeeeeeithy.”

“Stop.”

“I scrimped and saved my hard earned money just to buy this for you.”

“Save your money.”

Lance reached up to lift the pickle off Keith’s head. “Please put it on. We can be twins.”

“It would look cute, Keith,” Hunk said.

“Your opinion doesn’t count, Hunk,” Keith snarled, which got a mock-hurt look from Hunk.

Somehow Lance, using ninja skills Keith didn’t know he possessed, wriggled the shirt onto Keith, over his very nice Avengers t-shirt. Keith struggled, of course, but Lance mentioned he routinely dressed his niece and nephew, who were much harder to dress than Keith was. Keith, apparently, wasn’t much of a challenge.

Keith looked down at the upside down words.

'_Tickle My Pickle'_ with a cartoony-looking pickle grinning out in a seductive leer.

“Oh my fuck,” he hissed.

“KEITHY! Pickle Cotton Candy!” Lance shrieked, taking off toward the stand and dragging Keith with him.

“Gods, that sounds disgusting!”

* * *

“I need this in my life.”

“You apparently need many things in your life,” Keith said wryly. “What now?”

Lance lifted up the mug from the table and brandished it toward Keith. “It’s perfect!”

Keith eyed the mug. It was white ceramic, but the handle was a green pickle. Written in green across the mug was '_I’m Kind of a Big Dill_'. He rolled his eyes – he’d done that a lot today – and felt his lips quirk into a smile. “Alright. I’ll get it for you.”

“You will!?” Lance squealed. “You’re the best boyfriend ever!”

“I know.”

“I wish they had a ‘_Tickle My Pickle’_ mug, though,” Lance said, glancing over the rest of the mugs. 

“I’m kinda disappointed you haven’t yet,” Keith said.

“Haven’t what?”

“Done what my shirt says.”

Lance flushed a bright red, “Keith!”

“Yes, Lance?”

“You can’t just say that.”

“You made me wear it.”

Lance didn’t have a response to that and Keith was, as always, pleased he flustered his boyfriend. While it was easy to do so, it amused him every time.

“Are you gonna be like this all the time?” Keith asked.

“Like what?” Lance muttered, turning his attention back to the souvenir table.

“Flustered at even the thought of my pickle?”

Lance squawked, “NO!”

“I mean, look at how badly you’re blushing…”

“Stop!” Lance whined, trying to ignore Keith and moving slightly down the table to look at some pickle socks.

Keith followed, making sure to keep his body as close to Lance as possible. “C’mon Lance, tickle my pickle.”

Lance elbowed him in the side, giving him a sly glance. “You’d like that, wouldn’t you?”

“Well, yeah.”

“Ok.” Lance reached up and poked at Keith’s pickle hat. “There. I tickled your pickle.”

* * *

“Mmm…dill pickles….”

Keith knew Lance was doing this to get back at him for the ‘tickle my pickle’ thing. They had walked past a guy wearing a very sad-looking pickle costume, who didn’t look too enthused himself to be there, standing next to a big vat with a sign that read “Pickles - $4”. Lance insisted on getting one, though the rest declined. The man wrapped a large dill pickle in paper and handed it to Lance as Keith got out his wallet. 

Hunk and Shay moved over to one of the games and Lance and Keith stood off to the side watching. Well, Lance was watching Keith and when he finally caught his eye, he put the tip of the pickle in his mouth and sucked slightly on it. Hence, the murmuring about dill pickles.

Keith just stared back at him, eyebrow raised.

Lance then licked the tip, his expression sly, as he kept his gaze locked with Keith. “A little sour, but tastes so good,” he commented.

Keith nodded. “I imagine it does.”

Lance slid the pickle past his lips again and as far into his mouth as he could, which, Keith thought, was rather impressive. 

“You’re good at eating pickles,” Keith commented, one side of his lips quirking up. “Good to know you can fit big things like that in your mouth.”

Lance nearly choked and pulled the pickle out. He glared at Keith and then viciously bit into the end with a solid crunch. “Just for that,” he mumbled around the mouthful.

“Don’t use teeth, Lance. That’s not nice.”

* * *

“I didn’t know pickles could be used in this much food,” Hunk commented, his nose wrinkled as he perused the selections in the Pickle Food Tent.

The tables were loaded with all sorts of things Keith would never have associated with pickles. Lance had already discovered the pickle cotton candy, which wasn’t as bad as they all thought it would be. Sour, to be sure, but not so strong that it made any of them gag. But the offerings in the tent extended further than he thought they could.

Pickle Candy. Pickle Oreos (yes, a pickle sandwiched in the middle of the Oreo). Pickle soda. Pickle lollipops. Pickle mints (which Keith thought negated the point of mints). Pickle candy canes (“Keith! We need to get this for our Christmas tree!”). Pickle gum. Pickle popcorn and dill pickle popcorn seasoning. Pickle flavored almonds, peanuts, and sunflower seeds. Pickle gummies. Pickle ice pops. There was even a soft serve stand selling pickle ice cream. The only thing he recognized were a few of the snack chips offered which were dill flavored. 

Hunk and Lance insisted on tasting everything, so Keith’s backpack was soon filled with samples of almost all the pickle offerings. For some reason, Lance drew the line at the Oreos. “Pickles and chocolate, Keithy? No way!”

They left the tent weighted down with food, lighter on the wallets, and holding small cups of the pickle ice cream. “It’s actually not bad,” Hunk commented as he poked his spoon in for another bite.

“I’m surprised all of this pickle stuff is good,” Shay agreed.

“Pickles are just awesome, hands down,” Lance said.

Keith eyed Lance, licking at his spoon. “Hands down on my pickle…”

“Keith!”

* * *

“Ring-Around-The-Pickle…” Shay read from the sign. Most of the midway games were ones you’d normally find at any festival or carnival, but this one was apparently a special one designed for the Pickle Festival. There was a row of wooden pickles standing up in a row at the back of the booth. The barker held a handful of scuffed up rings. “Three rings for a dollar. Twenty for five.”

“What do you think, Sharpshooter?” Keith asked, looking at Lance. “You bragged so much about your accuracy at Mini Golf. Think you can win me a stuffed pickle?”

“I’d rather you stuff your pickle somewhere…”

“Lance!” Hunk warned.

“What?”

“I’ll challenge you, Lance,” Shay offered, distracting the pair. “Let’s see who rings their pickle the best.”

“Challenge accepted! I’ll ring that pickle good for Keithy.”

As Shay and Lance handed over their money to the not-so-clean-looking carnival worker, Hunk said to Keith, waving his hand in a way to encompass the entire fair, “Do you think the organizers of this festival realize how phallic all of this is?”

“I can’t imagine they can’t,” Keith answered, his eyes on Lance as his boyfriend lined up his first toss. “I mean, someone on the committee has to realize. I’m guessing they know and just roll with it.”

“Still.”

Lance lived up to his self-given nickname. While Shay put up a good show, Lance ringed ten of the pickles, guaranteeing him the large stuffed pickle. He danced a short victory dance as he waited for the worker to unhook the hanging pickle. “Look how good I am at landing on the pickle, Keithy!”

“I’m very proud of you, sweetheart.”

“And I won you a pickle!” Lance crowed, hugging the three-foot pickle to his chest. “Here,” he said, handing it to Keith. “The first thing I ever won for you!”

“I’ll cherish it forever.”

* * *

“There’s a drink tent?” Hunk asked as Lance paused at the sign in front of a green tent. The sign had a large cartoon pickle on it that held a martini glass and appeared to be tipsy. 

“Cucumber martinis and pickle shots,” Lance read from the sign. “Want to try?”

“Sure!” Shay said. “We need more alcohol in our lives. Maybe there’s some pickle karaoke Keith can sing later.”

Keith scowled. “There will be no singing at all.”

“Aw Keithy! You can make all these festival goers swoon over your pickle!”

“Lance…”

There weren’t many people in the tent. Most were probably at the cornhole tournament on the challenge field. They could hear the faint cheers from that general direction.

“What are the pickle shots?” Shay asked the bartender, an older man with a sour expression. He eyed the quartet warily as they all looked expectantly at him. 

“Vodka. And pickle juice,” he said. His voice matched his demeanor, growly and low. 

“I’m game,” Hunk said. “Four shots, please.”

The man grunted and turned to make up the shots and the four stood there awkwardly, trying not to laugh. After a couple of minutes, the four shots were lined up on the bar in front of them. The shot glasses were full of a cloudy pale green drink and garnished with a pickle slice on the glass edge. The four friends picked up a glass each. 

“To the Pickle Festival!” Lance said, picking off the pickle and popping it into his mouth.

The other three followed suit and they all clinked their shot glasses together. “To the Pickle Festival!” they said before knocking back the shot.

“Whoo. Stronger than I thought it’d be!” Hunk said.

“Not bad, though, to be honest,” Shay said, licking her lips.

“One more round, barkeep!” Lance called.

Three rounds later, they were feeling a little tipsy, though nowhere near as drunk as they were at karaoke. “We need to try the martinis now,” Shay suggested. “What’s in those?” she asked the bartender, whose expression hadn’t changed the whole time he made them drinks.

“Vodka. Cucumber. Mint.” The man turned to start mixing up the martinis and Keith tried hard not to laugh. 

“Oh my god, they’re showing _Veggie Tales_!” Lance exclaimed, grabbing his newly finished martini and wandering over to the television propped on a stand on the other side of the tent.

“Why? This is a bar?” Shay asked, perplexed.

“It’s got a pickle on it,” the bartender said with a shrug as he pushed the last two glasses across the bar to Hunk and Keith. Keith paid the man and followed Lance over to watch the show.

“I used to watch this all the time!” Lance said before he took a sip of his martini. “Mmm. This is actually pretty good!”

“It is! I’ll have to make these sometime,” Shay agreed.

Keith’s phone sounded a notification for a FaceTime call. Shit, he thought. It was Sunday, and he had forgotten to tell Shiro he wouldn’t be home until late that day. He dug his phone out of his pocket with the thought of denying the call and sending Shiro a quick message via text that he’d call him back later, but his thumb accidentally brushed over the answer button.

With a sigh, and forcing a smile on his face, he swung the phone up. “Hey Shiro!”

“Shiro!” Lance, Hunk, and Shay shouted, lifting their martini glasses.

“Keith?” Shiro asked, his brow furrowed. Keith glanced at the other three and laughed, then looked back at Shiro. 

“Hey!”

“Wh-what are you doing?”

“We’re at a festival.”

“A pickle festival! Tickle mah pickle!” Lance yelled.

Keith laughed again and the phone dipped down. “Keith!?”

“Sorry, sorry,” he said, bringing the phone back up.

“What is on your head?”

“You like it? It’s my pickle hat!” Keith said, tilting the phone up enough so Shiro could get a view of the pickle in all its glory.

“Uh yeah, it’s. Nice.”

“Like my shirt too? Lance got it for me,” he said, tilting the phone down so Shiro could read it.

“Cute,” Shiro said.

“Don’t be a grump, Shiro.”

“I’m not.”

“I have a tickle my pickle shirt too! Oh, look at what Keith got me!” Lance said suddenly, his arm making its way around Keith’s shoulders. He had dug out the ceramic mug from Keith’s backpack, which was on the floor by the TV, and displayed it for Shiro. “Keith thinks I’m a big dill!”

Keith snickered, then took a drink from his martini. “There’s cucumber martinis here, Shiro! They’re good!”

“Hey, this is the first time I’ve talked to Shiro!” Lance said. “Hi Shiro!”

“Hello, Lance. It’s…nice…to meet you.”

“Do you want a tickle my pickle shirt too? I can bring you one next week!”

“Uh, no, I’ll pass.”

“Keith keeps telling me that I need to do what his shirt says. But don’t worry, Shiro. I’m a good boy.”

“Right.”

Keith laughed. “You’re the one threatening to use your teeth on my pickle!”

“Keith,” Shiro said, “Are you drunk?”

“No!”

“It sure looks like it.”

“I just feel good, Shiro. I’m not drunk.”

“Nothing like last weekend,” Lance informed Shiro. “He drank so much and sang at karaoke and I had to take him home and get him undressed and put him to bed and Hunk had to make him pancakes the next day for his hangover…Oh!” he shouted, ducking out of the phone camera so that he could grab the stuffed pickle. “Look what I won for Keithy! A big pickle!” He shoved the pickle between Keith and his phone, which got Keith laughing. “Oh he’s a big pickle isn’t he? I’m such a sharpshooter and ringed the pickle real good. Keithy was so impressed at my pickle-ringing skills. Oh! You should have seen the parade! There were all these guys dressed as pickles and these girls dancing around in pickle dresses…” He trailed off, his attention caught by the TV. “Oh my god, I remember this episode! I have to watch this. The pickle is a pirate!”

“So that’s why you couldn’t talk on Sunday? You were hungover?”

Keith rolled his eyes. “I get drunk once, Shiro…”

“That’s not like you.”

“So? I let loose a little. What’s the big deal?”

“You’re drinking…”

“One night.”

“You’re not talking to me any more.”

“I was too sick last Sunday to talk. I texted you a shit ton this week. You were the one too busy to talk.”

“You’re drunk now.”

“I’m tipsy. I drank a couple pickle shots and a martini. I’m not drunk.”

“And you’re apparently dating a child.”

“Whoa. Stop right there,” Keith said, his tone darkened as his brain’s fuzz cleared.

Keith’s eyes darted to Lance, who looked stricken. Lance’s eyes were intently watching the cartoon, but Keith could tell he heard Shiro. Hunk and Shay wore worried expressions as well. He looked back at Shiro’s image on his phone. To his credit, Shiro’s expression turned guilty. 

“I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said that.”

“You’re right. You shouldn’t have.”

“It’s just…”

“No,” Keith interrupted him. “There’s no just. There’s no reason for you to be an asshole.”

“Keith…”

“No,” Keith repeated. “You’re the one judging him without bothering to get to know him. I offer to let you talk to him every time you call and you refuse. That’s on you. I’m done. I’ll talk to you later.”

Without another word, and ignoring Shiro’s pleading voice, Keith cut the call and shoved the phone into his pocket. He didn’t want to look at Lance. Shiro’s call completely killed the mood of the day. He had been having fun. The flirting and trading innuendos with Lance made him feel so good and loved. Hunk and Shay had been making him laugh. It was a good day, and now his brother had gone ahead and ruined it. Fuck. 

Lance, however, grabbed his free hand and pulled him over. “Did you ever watch Veggie Tales?” he asked, as if the call from Shiro never happened. His expression was bright and smiling. “I know it’s religiousy and all, but it was still funny!”

“I never really did,” Keith admitted, trying to return his smile. 

“This is a good one,” Lance said, nodding at the TV.

* * *

“Your brother…”

Keith sighed, reaching up to pinch the bridge of his nose. Shay and Lance were in line for the Pickle Spinner – a ride that resembled the Tilt-a-Whirl, only with pickles for the carriages. It looked awfully phallic to Keith, but Lance wanted to go on it. Keith and Hunk wisely chose to watch from the sidelines.

“I don’t know what his problem is,” Keith said, dropping his hand to his side. “He’s never acted like this.”

“You’ve never had a boyfriend, though, have you?”

“No. But it’s not like I’m sixteen, Hunk,” Keith said, looking at his friend. He felt comforted just by Hunk’s sympathetic expression. “I get it if I’m just a kid, but I’m not.”

Hunk nodded. “Still. Look, I’m not making excuses for him, obviously, but he’s been taking care of you a long time, hasn’t he?”

“Yeah. Since I was twelve.”

“He probably never really lost the protective older brother thing,” Hunk suggested, putting his hand on Keith’s shoulder. “I get it. I have a younger sister. I’m pretty protective of her, even though I’m all the way out here. I still worry about her constantly.”

“He’s not giving him a chance, though. He always finds an excuse not to talk to him. I’ve tried to get him to talk to Lance when he FaceTimes on Sundays. There’s never time, according to him. That’s never been a problem before. How the fuck did he suddenly get so busy?” He drew in a deep breath. “Lance tries to not let me see, but I can tell this is tearing him up. Maybe I should cancel this trip. I can’t imagine the nightmare it will become if Shiro doesn’t get his shit together and play nice.”

“I don’t think we should cancel.”

Keith was surprised. He knew Hunk had heard Shiro. He also knew Hunk was privy to more of Lance’s thoughts on the matter than he was. He knew Lance probably told Hunk every little fear in his heart about it – something he wouldn’t be able to tell Keith. Keith understood, and didn’t blame Lance for not confiding in him about this. He thought Hunk would want to protect Lance from such a situation, though.

“You don’t?”

Hunk shook his head. “No, I don’t. Look, I know you probably think my instinct is to protect Lance.” Keith’s mind boggled at how accurate Hunk could read him. “But you can’t just let this whole thing fester with your brother. I think the two of you need to talk it out. Face to face. I think it’s something more than just Lance.”

“I agree. But I don’t want to drag Lance into it. You and Shay don’t deserve that either.”

“That’s the thing though. You’re our friend now, and whether you know it or not, you’re our family as well. We love Lance and we know he loves you.” Keith blushed. “You know it without him saying it,” Hunk added with a little grin. “And that means Shay and I love you, too. So we’re not gonna let you go alone. Besides, it’ll be easier for Shiro to see how amazing Lance is if he can see him in person.”

Keith nodded slowly, letting Hunk’s words digest in his mind. Along with the warm feeling spreading from his heart. He knew he loved Lance and was sure Lance loved him, but to be certain, now, that Lance loved him back shot a jolt of euphoria through him. The feeling also stemmed from gaining two phenomenal friends in Hunk and Shay. He loved them, too, he realized. 

“That’s the truth. Lance does kind of make you like him, doesn’t he?”

Hunk chuckled. “Yes. He’s very good at that.” The hand on his shoulder slid over so that Hunk was side-hugging Keith now. “We’ll be there to support him. I’m glad you asked us, cause I know how nervous he is about this whole thing. If things go south, we’ll leave. But nothing will get better if you avoid it.”

“You’re right,” Keith agreed. “I get they were annoyed with me. Shiro and Pidge. I should have told them right away about us. I get it. I do. But to take it out on Lance?”

“Who else can they blame?”

“Me!”

“Blaming you makes it more complicated. At least for them. Blaming Lance means they can still operate normally with you. And since Lance is distant, it’s safe.”

“That doesn’t make sense.”

“It does in a weird sort of way. If my sister dated someone and didn’t tell me, I’d be mad. Of course, I’d blame her, but I can sympathize. How would you feel if Shiro or Pidge did the same to you?”

“Like shit,” Keith admitted. “I guess. I don’t know. Maybe I’d be pissed. Not sure if I would take it out on who they’re dating. Maybe I would. You’re right,” Keith said, after thinking about it for a minute. “I’d probably be mad at their boyfriend or girlfriend.”

“Like I said, we’ll go and have a good time. If Pidge and Shiro continue this attitude, then we can go off on our own. And we can leave if it gets too bad. But I think it’ll be ok.”

Keith nudged Hunk a little with his elbow, but he turned his head and smiled at his friend. “Is that just your general positive outlook on life speaking?”

“Probably,” Hunk replied, returning the smile. “But then, my faith is on Lance. Your boyfriend is one amazing guy. They’ll see it, Keith. Trust me.”

* * *

“That was fun, Lance,” Keith said as he pulled a fresh t-shirt over his head and tugged it into place. He had already changed into his sleep shorts while Lance was doing his nightly cleansing ritual. When Lance had finished, Keith spent a grand total of five minutes on his nighttime routine and returned to their room. Lance was already in bed, swiping through his phone. 

Lance looked up from his phone and smiled. “I’m glad you liked it. It was a lot more fun than I thought it’d be.”

“Same. When you said Pickle Festival, I didn’t think it’d be an actual festival.”

“What did you think I meant?”

“Not a festival.”

Keith settled himself on the bed and Lance scooted himself down. Keith knew Lance was still upset about the phone call with Shiro, so instead of positioning himself as usual – his back against Lance in a spooning position – he faced his boyfriend and cuddled close in order to kiss him as they lay there. It took some time, but the worry wrinkles on Lance’s forehead smoothed out and Keith was gifted with the beautiful laugh lines that crinkled the side of Lance’s eyes instead. They murmured little sweet nothings to each other and kissed more – long and lazy kisses that served to light up something in Keith. Certainly, he got hard, as was often the case when they were in bed together.

Even when they only lay there, pressed up against each other, the calm and even breathing behind him and the weight of Lance’s arm, caused stirrings deep within. Stirrings that spread and warmed him and made him glad he faced away. He thought it might be the same for Lance – Lance often slept with his hips scooted far enough away and Keith assumed Lance didn’t want to freak Keith out by poking him with an erection. Keith wished he would.

Keith lifted his leg a little and slid it up Lance’s leg, hooking over Lance’s hip as he pulled himself closer to his boyfriend. He didn’t miss the surprised lift of eyebrows, though Lance raised no objection. He merely smiled, sliding a hand up Keith’s back and pressing the pads of his fingers between Keith’s shoulder blades.

“Hey, cariño,” Lance said, his voice low and oh-so-fond.

“Sweetheart…” Keith whispered before nibbling on Lance’s neck.

“Mmm…you keep that up and I can’t promise I can control myself.”

“Maybe I don’t want you to.”

“Keith…”

He slid his hand up into Lance’s hair and pulled him in for a deep kiss, slipping his tongue aggressively into Lance’s mouth, swallowing the surprised moan he drew out. Lance responded, almost automatically, moving his leg between Keith’s thighs, providing a little pressure for Keith to arch into, pulling his mouth away as his head tilted back. It just gave Lance the opportunity to attack his neck.

“Gods, I want you to touch me.”

“Keith…” Lance said again, this time in a suppressed whine. “We. We promised…”

“You don’t have to fuck me Lance. I just want you to touch me.”

Lance let out a small gasp and an amused, “Such language, Keithy. I thought you wanted to fuck me?”

“I will on the tenth date.” He grinded his hips up against Lance, rubbing himself against Lance’s thigh. Fuck, the friction felt so good.

“Turn around,” Lance whispered.

“What?”

“Turn around. Away from me.”

“That’s not…”

“Shhh,” Lance murmured, nibbling at the base of Keith’s neck. “Trust me.”

Silently, Keith repositioned himself and felt Lance settle himself against his back. It was different, because Lance let all points of contact happen from his face buried in Keith’s hair to tangling their feet together. Keith also felt a telltale hardness press up against his ass and he arched his back slightly, pressing into it. Lance groaned, then ground up against Keith, his cock sliding up Keith’s ass crack. Shit, Lance was dry humping him fully clothed. He couldn’t believe how hot it felt.

Lance’s next move surprised him more. He felt Lance’s hand, which was flat against his stomach as Lance moved his hips against him, move down. Lance fumbled a bit at his waistband, trying to get under his t-shirt and into his shorts. Once he’d shoved Keith’s clothes out of the way, he wrapped his hand firmly around Keith’s cock and swirled his thumb around the tip through the pre-cum already present.

Keith’s mind disconnected for a minute. It felt, of course, completely different from his own hand. He knew exactly how to touch himself to bring about his orgasms, but allowing someone else the control felt right. A little scary, but so good. He hissed, biting his lip as he reached his arm up in order to tangle his fingers in Lance’s hair. Lance was kissing and biting his neck and Keith knew there’d be bruising there the next day.

“Fuck Keith. Fuck. Dios, you feel so good,” Lance grunted out as he moved against Keith’s ass.

“Your hands…” Keith gasped out.

“Can’t wait to fuck you.”

The heat shooting through him at every stroke of Lance’s hand amped up. Lance’s hand was gentle, but those long fingers were relentless, and while Keith wanted it to last, he was building up to his release fast. The sexual innuendos and thinly veiled erotic mutterings they exchanged all day all served to push him to the edge in the first place. It didn’t dissipate on the ride home, cuddled up in the back of Shay’s SUV, getting a little handsy as their brains, still tipsy from the little bit of alcohol they’d consumed, pushed each of them to be bolder than normal. 

It didn’t take much – Keith was too worked up and horny – before he came, spots sparking behind his closed eyelids as he felt the delicious release and strained against Lance’s hand, which lovingly milked him through his climax, using the right amount of pressure and speed to draw it out. Keith finally whimpered when the pleasure peaked and started to abate, making Lance’s hand almost painful because the head of his cock was so sensitive. 

Lance stopped, dropping his hand flat on the mattress, right into a blob of Keith’s spunk. He apparently didn’t care, because his hips, which paused their movements while Keith came, picked back up, thrusting his erection against Keith’s ass again. “Come for me, baby,” Keith gasped out, still dragging in his own breath after his mind-blowing orgasm.

Lance grunted, burying his face in Keith’s neck as his body stiffened behind him, hips stuttering in his climax. The sharp point of Lance’s nose poked the side of Keith’s neck and Lance sucked hard on his skin as he hit his peak. 

He eventually calmed, body relaxing behind Keith in a tired slump, arm floppy over Keith’s waist. They lay, not saying anything for a few minutes as they tried to gather their thoughts together. Keith’s mind raced. He hadn’t expected to get this far with Lance already. Hadn’t they promised to wait for the tenth date? He supposed technically it was sex they were waiting for, but hand-jobs and dry humps were still sex, weren’t they? Lance touched him. Touched him sexually. Was it a bad thing? Thinking of how good it felt, it shouldn’t be. 

But, he thought to himself guiltily, they hadn’t said they loved each other, and to Keith it was an important part of the experience. Should he say it now? Would Lance think he said it only as a thank you for the hand-job? It seemed the wrong time. Lance deserved romance when he said it, not with his hand covered in Keith’s cum and his boxers sticky with his own. Keith bit his lip, unsure what to say.

Shit. What the hell would Lance say? Or think? Keith initiated this. He took advantage of their slightly tipsy state. Sure, Lance certainly got into it, but that could just be hormones affected by the buzz of cucumber martinis and pickle shots. 

“I’m glad we did laundry yesterday,” Lance said, his tone almost normal. “I should have fresh underwear in the drawer. And I know you did all the sheets this morning.”

Keith huffed out a laugh. What had he worried about? It would change nothing between them. If anything, it would bring them closer. Gods, did he love this man. He pulled his shorts up and rolled himself back a little, turning his head enough for Lance to be able to kiss his cheek. “Yeah. Probably need to change the sheets at least.”

“Mm. I’ll run into the bathroom and change my underwear. I’m glad I wore my silky boxers to bed. It felt really good.” Before he could slide off the bed, Keith caught hold of his arm preventing him.

“I hope you didn’t think that was weird,” he said.

Lance chuckled. “No. I’m actually surprised we held out this long.”

“It hasn’t been easy for me, believe me.”

“Me either. But I guess a little hand-job here and there isn’t breaking our promise. Besides. I was just doing what your shirt said about tickling your pickle.”

“Lance…” Keith said, laughing. He let go of Lance’s arm and shoved at him. “Go change, you dork.”

“But I’m _your_ dork,” Lance sang out as he bounced off the bed and crossed to the dresser.

Keith laughed again as he got out of bed himself. Lance dashed out of the room, passing a disappointed looking Red. Keith stripped the bed quick and went out to get fresh sheets from the linen closet. “Yes. You are my dork. All mine,” Keith whispered fondly.

**Author's Note:**

> My VLD writing friends, the Klasix, are mostly to blame for the Pickle Festival idea. What made this idea dear to my heart, however, is that there really is a Linwood Pickle Festival! Linwood was a town not very far from where I grew up, and my fifth grade teacher, Mr. LaFlamme, was part of the Linwood National Pickle Festival committee every year. He constantly talked about the pickle festival. Sadly, I never did attend, but I would like to some day. This story is dedicated to the Linwood National Pickle Festival, and to Mr. LaFlamme (may he rest in peace), who encouraged me to write way back then.
> 
> There is a Lynwood, CA. The Linwood I know is in Michigan. So this Linwood is a fictional small town in California. I didn't think it feasible that the gang would drive from CA to MI just to attend a pickle festival. 
> 
> Many thanks to the Klasix! Their love and support means everything! This story is linked to the Klasix Master Collection - please click on it to check out their work and throw them some love.
> 
> And thanks to Tom for the help with the hand-jobs. (I told you I'd thank him, Caz)
> 
> Catch me on tumblr @ devooshawrites


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